


you were always there when i needed to vent

by amyscascadingtabs



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Anxious Amy Santiago, Female Friendship, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Light Angst, Movie Night, Other, Rosa is the best of friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 07:16:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15990320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyscascadingtabs/pseuds/amyscascadingtabs
Summary: If someone had told Rosa when she was first getting to know her new pedantic rule-follower of a colleague about how she would one day see their combined Friday movie nights as the highlight of her week, she would have laughed out loud and then punched the messenger on account of their stupidity.It's not the way she would have predicted for them to grow closer. Still she strangely doesn't mind it.With Jake in Witness Protection and Adrian off the grid to hide from Figgis, Amy and Rosa find new traditions to keep them going.





	you were always there when i needed to vent

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this was born when I rewatched s4 with my family and was struck by what Amy says to Rosa in The Night Shift - “When Jake was in Witness Protection and I didn’t know if he was ever coming back, you were always there when I needed to vent.”   
> It’s no exaggeration to say that I would give my life for both of these characters and their friendship is one I adore to pieces, and so I got the idea for a fic about their friendship during the time Jake and Holt were in Florida.   
> Hannah @nevermindthewind is once again a massive part of the reason this fic got written; she basically suggested the whole premise and kept me semi-motivated to finish it when it was slow-moving and I know I say this in every authors note, but I’m not kidding when I say she’s the best of mutuals and writer friends because she truly is ♥️

From the day the overly competitive but remarkably ambitious and notoriously rule-following Detective first walked through the elevator doors to the fourth floor of the 99th precinct, Rosa Diaz has known exactly three things for sure about the young woman with high-flying dreams about her own command.

The first piece of knowledge is her goal of becoming the youngest female Captain in the NYPD.

The second is that she’ll succeed, because contrary to what the small pant suit-clad frame at first had her believe, Santiago doesn’t get knocked down easily and she definitely never gives up.

The third thing Rosa knows about Amy is that she  _ talks.  _ A lot. As in, sometimes almost even more than Jake, which categorically should be humanly impossible.

It’s one of the constants she holds onto at the precinct. Charles is always fermenting something in his desk. Terry refers to himself in third person sometimes and no one acts like it’s weird. Gina has folders of blackmail material on you and it's therefore best not to upset her. Hitchcock and Scully will steal your food if you don’t mark it well enough, unless you live on vegetables exclusively in which case they  _ might _ leave it. Jake’s desk has never not looked like a complete mess. Amy talks.

If it’s not ideas for improvements after briefings, it’s arguments for why Training Day is the best cop movie or why orange soda and cereal can never be a healthy breakfast, or it’s four hours worth of efforts to make small talk even though Rosa repeatedly tries to signal disinterest. It’s detailed explanations of what she’s thinking whenever they work cases together, it’s subtle compliments to her colleagues encouraging their good work or it’s so-called helpful hints secretly hiding insults if they screw something major up. When she and Gina make themselves reacquainted with six-drink-Amy one late night at Shaw’s, celebrating a masterly solve of a string of burglaries, Rosa even hears her hard-working friend (because they  _ are _ friends, even though she wouldn’t utter it out loud) whisper about her other friend, the one Rosa’s had since the academy.  _ I think he’s sweet,  _ Amy confides in them.  _ I like the way he thinks. He always makes me laugh. _

They put her in a cab home when her drunkenness gets the better of her and she asks them if they’d ever thought about what Jake would be like in bed.

So yeah, Amy talks. 

Which makes it all the more eerie when she stops. 

 

There is no graduality to how the talking ends, either, no insinuating hints or timely warnings lessening the shock of it. First there are the weeks where she’s undercover in Texas, when the silence can be easily explained by the fact that the chair at her desk is also empty. Then there is the week in-between, the week where both Amy and Jake are in their desks making heart-eyes at each other and holding hands whenever they leave the precinct together and Rosa will roll her eyes at them, wishing they could tone their obvious affection for each other down just a notch.

She regrets wishing so the moment the squad hears news about Figgis and are forced to a tear-filled temporary farewell of their Captain and their colleague.

(Well, tear-filled if you’re Charles or Terry. Rosa didn’t cry. It was windy outside.)

Because the next day, when she gets to the precinct and sees her colleague with messy hair and smudged mascara hunched over a thick case file on her desk, Santiago doesn’t utter as much as a syllable when someone walks past her. 

For what must be the first time since she arrived at the 99th precinct, Amy is silent for an entire day.

Two days.

Three days.

On day four, the nods and shakes she’s used for communication thus far are accompanied by simple hums or one-worded replies if she’s asked a question. No further development, Rosa notes in the mental Amy-diary she has most unconsciously started keeping about her colleague. In place of development there is deterioration; under-eye bags growing evident, no squad member seeming able to recall when they last saw her consume anything with nutrition, a single spelling error found in a case report. 

 

It’s enough for Diaz, who has prided herself in ignoring other people’s business to as far an extent as she can possibly go since she started pre-school, to send a single text when she comes home the same evening.

 

**To: Amy Santiago**

**9.59 PM**

 

**Are you okay?**

**10.03 PM**

 

**I’m fine.**

**10.04 PM**

 

**I know you’re not fine.**

She waits for a reply, playing Kwazy Cupcakes and hoping another notification will pop up to disturb her game, but the only text she receives is one from her local Whole Foods telling her there’s a great discount on macadamia nuts this week.

She doesn’t even like macadamia nuts.

 

After workday number five of Jake and Holt being gone and Amy being silent, Rosa eventually breaks her own unspoken rule. She chides herself for it, is almost embarrassed when she throws two dvd cases into her messenger bag and grabs the still untouched bottle of tequila Gina gifted her for New Year’s, but if there’s one thing she prioritizes higher than letting people mind their own business, it’s being there for her friends.

It doesn’t make her a softie, she tells herself. It’s common decency. Anyone would willingly leave their apartment a chilly Friday night in the pouring rain to jostle with inebriated strangers on the subway. Anyone would run from the station cursing themselves for having forgotten their umbrella and take a breath of relief when entering the warm apartment building they were looking for. Anyone would be standing outside their colleague and friend’s door, knocking repeatedly until the door opens.

“Rosa”, says Amy in a small voice, blank look on her face. She’s in a dark green hoodie Jake has most definitely worn to work once, fidgeting with its straps and biting her already chapped lips. “What are you doing here?”

She holds up the dvd cases and alcohol bottle, nodding towards the TV in the living room corner. “We’re going to watch The Parent Trap and drink tequila in silence. If we finish The Parent Trap, we’re going to watch Father of the Bride. You don’t have to talk.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“It’s what friends do”, she insists, handing her friend the tequila. “Get your shot glasses. Oh, and you don’t look like you’ve eaten anything in a while, so I brought macadamia nuts.”

“Huh?”

“There was a sale. They’re nutrition-dense.”

“Huh”, Amy repeats, more slowly this time, and Rosa thinks she might even see a hint of something vaguely resembling a smile when she takes a step backward to let her in.

 

Before the first movie is over, Amy has had two shots of tequila, audibly snorted at several jokes, eaten half of the bag of nuts and passed out on the couch snoring. 

No further words have been uttered between them, but when Rosa drapes a knitted throw blanket over her friend before leaving, placing a glass of water and aspirin on the couch table in case the shots would be enough to give Amy a hangover, she still considers the night a success.

Jake wouldn't have wanted his girlfriend to be alone, she thinks to herself before locking the door with the spare key. She’s really doing two friends a favor here.

It’s a one time thing, anyway. 

 

~

 

Except she’s not sure it works.

Rosa’s not great on patience, she’ll admit that - she  _ has  _ threatened Hitchcock and Scully to death when they refused to admit to stealing her Moose Tracks ice cream - but there's no real change in Amy for their next shift and disappointment bites at her. Maybe she wasn’t expecting the detective to start humming upbeat pop songs in line to the copier or try to hide an outbreak of dork dancing when she’s handed a juicy case quite yet, but she was expecting  _ something _ . A brief smile accompanying a morning greeting. A few more words uttered at a time and at any other occasion than when absolutely necessary. Some company in the break room for lunch. 

Instead she gets more silence, stretched to the point where Rosa would do anything to hear one of the classic Snarky Santiago comebacks when she’s marked something wrong in an evidence file or listen to at least thirty seconds of Amy’s abysmal singing voice. She gets dark brown eyes staring back at her emptier than before, the sight of bleaker-than-usual pantsuits hanging too loose on the already slim body and a chair in the break room staying empty at lunch. She keeps having to chastise Scully for putting his feet on it, because if she lets him it means she’s given up.   
They’re assigned as partners to an identity theft case by their new and hopefully temporary Captain on Wednesday. Even then conversation is still limited to the bare minimum, and Rosa never thought she’d miss Amy’s talking  _ this _ much. 

She misses Jake cracking jokes at the smallest of details to try and make them laugh. She misses Holt’s unreadable poker faces and succinct but meaningful words of encouragement in trying times. She misses Pimento’s intensity and passion and having someone to discuss everything Nancy Meyers with without them laughing.

But Jake and Holt and Pimento are all different. Amy’s not in Witness Protection. Amy’s  _ here _ , and yet it’s clear she’s not. 

 

It’s Thursday when she has the first real conversation with her colleague she can remember having in a long time. It’s unplanned. When she makes her way out on the roof, remembering seeing the back of a dark blue jacket exit through the same door a few minutes earlier, her original plan is but to ask a simple question about the case they’re working. 

“Hey, Rosa.” Fresh cigarette smoke stings in her nose and she has to keep from coughing. She scrunches her nose demonstratively when Amy exhales another time, blowing a small cloud of grey smoke in front of her. She’s never quite been able to handle the smell. 

“I thought you had quit smoking.” 

She rolls her eyes before taking another drag of the cigarette. “I did.”

“Clearly didn’t last”, she points out, sitting down in the plastic chair adjacent to Amy’s.

It’s not an exact laugh, but it’s a kind of combination between a snicker and a snort as she extinguishes the cigarette against the ashtray and gives Rosa a weary grimace. She can’t tell if it’s supposed to be a smile. “Yeah, well, my life kind of sucks at the moment.”

“Jake motivated you to quit, didn’t he?” It’s more of a statement than an actual question. It’s been a long time since she saw her friend sneak away for a puff, and while she’s no mind-reader, she _ is _ both a Detective and someone who’s worked alongside Amy for years.

She nods, confirming Rosa’s theory. “I mean, he didn’t force me. I guess he just… knew I could. Not that it matters now”, she adds quickly. “He’s gone.”

“He’s not dead, Santiago.”

“He’s not here, either.”

“No”, Rosa agrees. “I guess he’s not. But in the meantime, I’ll be the one to tell you to quit. Hand me the cigarettes.” She places her right hand on the garden table between them, lifting her fingers one by one to gesture for the package. There’s an exasperated sigh, but the small red and white carton lands in her hands. “I’ll throw that away for you.”

“You know I can just buy new ones, right? I’m an adult.”

“I’m ordering you not to. I know how much you hate defying orders. Just pretend I’m Holt.”

Amy shakes her head, but there’s another snort-snicker combination following her display of annoyance.

“I’m also telling you to start eating again. Malnutrition isn’t a good look on you. I’ll bring lunch for you if that’s what it takes for you to join us in the break room at lunch again.”

“Rosa, seriously. You don’t have to take care of me.”

It’s her turn to roll her eyes this time, followed by kicking her friend in the shins that makes Amy let out a yelp of surprise. “And you don’t have to pretend you can go through everything alone if you can’t. Seriously, Santiago, noone’s blaming you for taking this hard. Just”, she hesitates, looking down at her black leather boots for a short moment. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

There’s no answer at first, and she’s stood up to leave before she gets one.

“Can we have another movie night tomorrow? 

 

~

 

So that’s the story behind how Rosa Diaz finds herself outside her friend’s door yet another Friday night, dvds in one hand, a plastic bag with two takeout boxes hanging from her other wrist and a bottle - the same as last week, she’s not an alcoholic, mind you - of tequila in hand.

It takes Rosa nudging Amy’s arm every other minute for her to actually take a bite of her pad thai and not just stare blankly at the TV. She’s seen Father of the Bride at least twenty times before despite it not being one of her favorite Nancy creations, so her focus keeps straying from the screen to her friend’s reactions.   
For every time the corners of Amy’s mouth twitch even marginally, every time she takes a bite of rice noodles or tofu without prompting and the few times she asks a question or briefly comments the story’s plot, Rosa’s heart is lighter.

Her fiancé isn’t here and the sting of his absence keeps intensifying. Her oldest friend is gone for God knows how long and the precinct is outlandishly quiet without him. She’s not losing Amy, too. She’ll offer however many Friday nights it takes to make sure of that.

So for the next three weeks, it becomes their tradition. Tequila. Takeout. Nancy Meyers movies in almost-silence. Amy falling asleep on the couch still in yoga pants and Jake’s hoodie and Rosa draping three different blankets over her so she won’t be cold. Rosa doing a quick clean-up and then leaving. 

One time they both have to work overtime on the Friday, so Nancy Meyers becomes Mamma Mia because it’s the best they can find in Amy’s limited Entertainment section of her dvd collection.

(“He usually brings the movies”, she tells Rosa while getting two glasses from the cupboard, voice brighter and less tense at the mention of her boyfriend. “We usually just watch Property Brothers or Jeopardy unless it’s Die Hard night.” She freezes suddenly, halting with the glasses still in her hand. “Should I be talking about him in present tense?”

“Yes”, Rosa answers without missing a beat, continuing to plate the Indian food they picked up on their way to Amy’s apartment. “You should.”)

(She doesn't tell anyone this, but Mamma Mia night with three-drink-Amy is almost as good as Nancy Meyers. Almost.)

Still, the newborn tradition remains.

 

It’s not a miracle cure by any means, but it’s an improvement.

It’s no more empty chairs in the break room at lunch and a weight lifting from her shoulders when Amy finally joins them again. It’s a genuine happy smile, one that reaches her eyes, when a teary-eyed Charles tells them the news about Nikolaj, his soon-to-be son. It’s the most low-key of dork dances she’s seen, but in her eyes still qualifying, when they find their perp for the identity theft case. It’s Terry cracking a joke to alleviate some of the tension on the day they all know is the one month anniversary of Jake and Holt being gone, and Amy actually  _ laughing _ . 

It’s progress.

 

~

 

They’re onto week five of movies, takeout and tequila the first time they talk about Jake. This night it’s time for Something’s Gotta Give, and Rosa would be lying if she said she hasn’t looked forward to Friday all week for that reason alone. 

Not that she’s not enjoying hanging out with Amy. She is, maybe more than she’d like to admit, because the growing friendship bond feels as unexpected as important to her in both Adrian and Jake’s absence. But hanging out with one of her best friends  _ and  _ watching one of the best movies ever made? It's pretty close to perfect, or as close to perfect as she gets now when everything's still so  _ wrong _ at the 99th precinct and none of their desperate attempts to find intel about Figgis are turning out even remotely successful. 

(Okay, maybe it’s not perfect, but it is at the very least better than dance practice with Gina. Rosa and her sprained ankle are never doing that again.)

She’s too focused on the plot to react at the first incoherent mumble from the other end of the couch. It’s been a long week; she must have imagined hearing Amy say her boyfriend’s name for the first time since their parting.

Except when Rosa doesn’t answer, she repeats it, and this time the full sentence becomes audible.

“I saw this movie with Jake once”, Amy says. Her voice shakes with unfamiliarity, as if she’s forgotten her partner is a person she once used to talk about with ease, but the words are there. “He said it’s the one Nancy Meyers movie he really likes.”

“Wow. I didn’t know he had one.”

“Me neither”, she admits. A weak smile accompanies her words. “Not until he told me. But I know we saw it once, pretty shortly after we got together. Maybe two months or something.”

“Uh-huh.” The movie is still playing, plot moving forward without the attention of the two Detectives, but Rosa is afraid to interrupt. She hasn’t heard her friend say this many words in one go for over a month.

“It was this lazy day off where we were both exhausted and in need of something easy”, she continues, reaching for her sprite-tequila drink glass and grimacing at the taste. “Some movie channel was showing it. He made this… inane comparison, with us and Harry and Erica.”

Rosa tries not to laugh, but it comes seeping out of her anyway, bubbly contagious laughter that is partially with reason of drunkenness and partially with reason of the ludicrous mental image she’s seeing in her head. She tries to stop after she’s given a stern look, she really does, but it’s too late and she’s tipsy and soon Amy is giggling as well.

“He compared you to -” She can’t even finish the full sentence when she tries, too entertained by the idea and the nonchalant way it’s being told to her.

“It was sweet, okay!”

“Sure it was. Not at all just plain weird. ”

“Hey!” Amy reaches for the beige throw pillow behind her back, throwing it at Rosa without warning. “They’re cute! And he had a whole motivation behind it!”

“Bet that turned you on.”

“Ha-ha.” She rolls her eyes, although there’s a mysterious smirk left on her lips. “He told me he liked how even though they’re with other people before and they have their struggles, they just know they have something, right? And then in the end they end up together. Happy ending”, she whispers, playing with the thin gold chain around her neck. “Feels ironic to think about now.”

“You’ll have a happy ending.” It’s Rosa’s turn to take a swig of her drink before diving into the unanticipated emotional honesty. “He’ll be back. It’s not like he’s…” She doesn’t say it.

“He might as well be, though. I can’t text him. I can’t see him. I can’t do anything except reminisce over times he inadvertently compared me to Diane Keaton”. There’s a quick pause in which she seems to contemplate her previous statement. “Actually, maybe it was intentional and he meant it as a compliment.”

“Probably. Guy’s head over heels in love with you.”

She grins. “I just… really miss him. And it feels ironic to be thinking about happy endings when everything I think about is how cold my bed is without him. Or how I had to pour out the bottle of orange soda in the back of my fridge because no one’s gonna drink it. Or try to explain to my family why he’s not going to show up to our next gathering.”

“It sucks.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it does.”

They both turn their attention back to the TV when the movie changes scene, the realization that they’ve missed about ten minutes of plot dawning upon them.

“I’m sorry”, Amy blurts out a few minutes later. “We said movie night, not therapy night. I shouldn’t be talking.”

“Dude”, is Rosa’s answer, and she wants to give a long explanation about her relief over the simple fact that her friend is finally  _ talking _ instead of bottling up the anxiety and grief that’s been evident to them all for the latest month, but she can’t quite reach the words. “It’s fine. Don’t worry.”

“Still. I am.”

“The only time I’ll make you apologize is if you talk during The Holiday”, she promises. “ _ Then  _ you’ll be sorry.”

 

~

 

If someone had told Rosa when she was first getting to know her new pedantic rule-follower of a colleague about how she would one day see their combined Friday movie nights as the highlight of her week, she would have laughed out loud and then punched the messenger on account of their stupidity. Sure, her and Santiago has always worked well together. They’re both skilled female Detectives in a male-dominated profession and they’ve had each other’s backs since day one. They were never close, though, never bothered to find enough in common to be so before both their significant others were forced away.

It's not the way she would have predicted for them to grow closer. Still she strangely doesn't mind it. 

Adrian’s not here, Holt’s not here and Jake’s not here - but Amy is. She can’t replace Adrian and Rosa can’t replace Jake, but they can be something for each other. 

They can be friends. They can be sisters.

(“Witsec Widows”, Amy suggests in a faint voice when Rosa finds her crying in the evidence room on the two month anniversary of Jake leaving.

“We’re never using that as a nickname”, she warns before helping her friend take a deep breath and get up from the floor, but after enough alcohol the same evening they end up temporarily renaming themselves to it in their contact lists anyway.)

 

~

 

“Why are you even doing this for me?” 

The next time their movie night becomes therapy night, they’re inching closer and closer to three months since Figgis dire phone call. The Holiday is playing on the TV for not the first but the second time in their movie night history. Rosa is still too entranced by it to want to answer the question. Amy questioning her motives gets to her, though, so she raises her voice anyway.

“Because we’re friends, dummy. And, you know, I also had a boyfriend that had to leave.”

“Aww!” Rosa almost feels her eardrums sting at the shrill tone. (This is definitely Two-Drink-Amy.) “You said we’re friends!”

“Shut up, Santiago.”

“We’re fri- _ eeee _ -nds!” She hiccups. (Maybe this is more than two drinks after all. More like… six.) “Rosa’s my  _ frieeeend _ …”

“Amy.”

“Mm-hmm?”

“You’re talking. During The Holiday”, she wheezes, eyes still glued to Kate Winslet’s image on the screen. “Look, dude, I love you, but one more word and I’ll kill you. Seriously.”

This gets her silent, and Rosa draws a breath of relief before she hears a whisper.

“You said you love me”, Amy whispers, voice hoarse and tear-filled. (Yeah. Six-drink-Amy. She better hide the tequila.) “Diaz said she  _ l-ooo-ves _ me.” 

“No I didn’t.”

“You did!”

“You heard wrong.”

“No heard wrong”, Amy slurs before throwing her arms around Rosa and resting her head uncomfortably close on her friend’s shoulder. “Y’love me. I love you too.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Mm-hmm, supes-drunk.”

“You’re not going to remember this tomorrow, are you?”

“Nah.” She shakes her head. “Still. Counts.”

 

And it does count, Rosa thinks when she reluctantly pauses the movie in order to help Amy collapse on top of her bed and not on Rosa’s shoulder.

She still catches Amy sneak out to smoke some days. She’s found herself tearing up upon discovering Adrian’s t-shirts no longer smells like him after all the nights she’s slept in it. Just yesterday, she watched Amy fully break down in the interrogation room when a perp explained he’d been at home watching Die Hard when the B&E in question occurred.

But at least there's movie night.

**Author's Note:**

> I felt like this fic was such a mess for most of the time I spent writing it, but I’m happy I wrote it and I dearly hope you enjoyed reading it! Kudos and comments are always appreciated and a great motivation boost so feel free to leave them, and let me know what parts you liked and if you want me to write more of Amy and Rosa’s friendship!


End file.
